


Pack a Green Cardigan

by threeturn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the Nickelodeon pregnancy prank. Harry is still the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack a Green Cardigan

Louis and Zayn had spent quite a bit of time predicting how the prank would go over: Zayn’s theory was that Liam would somehow know exactly what to do in cases of accidental childbirth and be whipping up a makeshift birthing bed within 30 seconds (which led to a fifteen minute detour for the usual oh-Zayn-I-know-love-is-blind-but-really conversation) while Louis was betting that Niall would either have a psychotic break or hide behind the couch. As for Harry, Louis thought that somehow he’d know it was fake, because Louis was rubbish at keeping truth off his face when he looked at Harry, and Zayn agreed this was a problem. “But you’ve got to try, Louis,” said Zayn. “You’ve got to whatsit. Be in the moment.”

As it happened, Louis didn’t actually try very hard, and when he started complaining about bad smells, he thought the jig was up, but no: Harry grinned at him, but he clearly had plans to deliver that baby. All sincere concern and supportive presence, he was deep-breathing like a champ. It would have been absurd to find Harry’s idiocy in any way heroic, so Louis repressed the twinge of— _something_ —when Harry’s eyes flicked to his, asking for approval. Suddenly Harry’s uncomplicated acceptance of this new mission was an odd, quick flash of pain in Louis’s gut, before he shook it off and hilarity won.

Just when Louis began to worry that someone was going to realize that no, Stephanie couldn’t actually give birth through her jeans, it was over, and Harry’s shock was a beautiful thing. Louis, naturally, made the most of it.

 

*

 

That night, Louis’d been in his hotel room all of five minutes, barely enough time to inspect the damage the day had done to his hair, let alone start packing for the flight to New York the next day, when Harry came bulling his way in the door without so much as a knock. Because apparently having Louis’s extra keycard as a matter of course somehow rendered decent courtesy unnecessary. Not that Louis minded; he drew a deep breath and prepared himself to mimic Harry’s Lamaze breathing again. Sure, he and Zayn had been doing this on repeat ever since shooting the segment, but as far as Louis was concerned, that only meant his performance was becoming more nuanced and effective. This time, though, he was jostled to the wall before he even had time to sputter out, “Get people! Get people!”

“That,” said Harry, teeth against his neck, “will be enough of _that_."

“No, actually,” said Louis, “I think you’ll find that there will _never_ be—” but he wasn’t able to finish his sentence, because Harry had nipped his way to Louis’s lips after firmly pinning Louis’s wrists to the wall, and his tongue was in Louis’s mouth, taking possession. Louis did his best for an extremely long time, three seconds even, to respond unenthusiastically, so as not to give Harry the satisfaction, but with Harry pushing up against him like that, hiding his hard-on wasn’t exactly possible. So Louis gave up and kissed back, open and messy, sliding down the wall a little, letting Harry hold him up.

“Let go,” gasped Louis when Harry came up for air. “The fuck, Haz, I wanna touch you,” and he struggled against Harry’s hold on his wrists.

“Uh-uh,” said Harry, and pushed Louis’s wrists together over his head, transferring them both to one hand. “Now I can touch _you_ , though,” he said conversationally, and slowly ran his other hand down Louis’s chest, over his stomach, and down further to palm Louis’s cock through his trousers before circling away again, back upwards, under his thin white shirt. Louis banged his head back against the wall.

“What was that, Lou?" Harry cocked his head. “Were you, like, whining about something?" He paused politely with his fingers on Louis’s abdomen, as if waiting to find out if Louis preferred milk or cream.

“The worst,” said Louis faintly.

“Pardon?”

“You. Are. The. Worst,” Louis hissed, and thrust his hips forward, aching for more pressure.

“Well, yes,” said Harry, “I mean, I think you mentioned that earlier today. _Once or twice_." He pulled at Louis’s wrists, held them just a little higher on the wall. “Stay still or I won’t touch you at all."

“Fuck you,” said Louis, but he didn’t move. Harry nodded and inched his hand back down. When he reached Louis’s cock, Louis jerked just a little, and Harry took his hand away.

“You are so _embarrassing_ ,” said Harry, grinning.

“Oh my god, get _over_ it,” said Louis.

“You and fucking _Zayn_ ,” said Harry, “are not over it. You two at dinner, honestly. The most obnoxious—“

“—Except you’re not punishing Zayn,” complained Louis, “you’re torturing me.”

“Liam can torture Zayn perfectly well on his own,” said Harry, “whereas you’re _my_ responsibility.”

“Lucky me,” snapped Louis, glaring at the stupid serenity of Harry’s face. He suspected he wasn’t being terribly convincing, though, now that Harry’s hand was back on his dick, stroking slowly through his trousers. Louis exhaled, working on staying still. Maybe his knees were a bit shaky, and maybe he was kind of grateful for the wall right now, but he could still talk. Louis could always talk. “Is there a reason you haven’t gotten my trousers off yet? I mean, normally you’d be on your knees for me by now, wouldn’t you?”

Harry ran a finger under Louis’s waistband, toyed with the button, and then—did nothing. “Sorry, Lou, your trousers are just too fucking tight for me, I mean I’d love to get them off, I really would, but I’m just not feeling capable of it.” He was grinning, obviously delighted with himself.

“Poor Haz,” said Louis murderously. “This just isn’t your day, is it?” He tried not to focus on Harry’s hand, rubbing and rubbing against the length of him until he thought he might pass out if Harry didn’t give him more. “Because I’m pretty sure you want to open up for me right now.” He wasn’t sure, actually, because Harry was being unusually uncooperative at the moment, but it seemed worth a try, so Louis kept talking. “It’s almost like that little incident this morning has damaged you somehow—I feel sorry for you, really—" He broke off because Harry had—well—growled was the only word. And then suddenly Louis’s wrists were free and Harry was grabbing at his arse, lifting him against the wall, propping him there, one knee between Louis’s thighs, nudging at him until Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist and forgot to finish his sentence.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” said Harry, licking at Louis’s collarbone. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand." Trapped between Harry and the wall, Louis could at least use his hands now. He could grab a fistful of Harry’s hair, yank his head up to get his tongue back in Harry’s mouth, he could clutch at Harry’s back, his arse, pull him as close as he possibly could. “Yeah, you seem—bothered,” said Harry, and heaved him away from the wall, staggering the three steps to the bed with Louis in his arms. And then Louis was on the bed, on his back, Harry looming over him, still looking annoyingly _un_ bothered. Harry stripped off his shirt, then stopped. “ _You_ take your trousers off, Lou,” he said. “Quickly.”

Louis stared.

“And mine too,” Harry added, smiling sweetly, like he was actually being terribly chivalrous and had just offered Louis his jacket on a chilly night or something. Louis wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, but he decided he’d worry about it later in view of how uncomfortably hot he felt all over. So he restricted himself to glaring as he unzipped himself, arched his hips up to peel everything off, and something about the way Harry was just kneeling there watching him made him feel awkward and turned on at the same time. It seemed even weirder to have his shirt still on, so he got rid of that too.

“Forgetting something?” Harry raised an eyebrow, all charm.

Louis rolled his eyes, but he scrambled up to a sitting position anyway, tugged at Harry’s zipper, shoved his trousers down his thighs, and then, when Harry sat back politely and extended his legs, yanked the damn things all the way off. He was about to go for Harry’s boxer-briefs when Harry pushed him back down on the bed and flipped him over on his stomach.

“You did get that she wasn’t actually pregnant, right, Haz? There weren’t any real, like, hormone thingummies to turn you into a caveman or anything, jesus _fuck_ —”

Harry was stroking over Louis’s arse, one thumb just dipping down into the hollow between, pressing a little. “You seem kind of into this, Lou,” he observed.

“Harry,” Louis groaned, pushing back into Harry’s hands. “Fuck, can’t you just—"

“Nope,” said Harry. “I think actually you’re gonna explain something to me first. Tell me why you went so crazy for me the moment I walked into this room.”

Louis tried to make a scoffing sound. Granted it was hard to make proper scoffing sounds with Harry straddling his knees, but Louis gave it his best. “Egomaniac,” he tried. “ _You_ attacked _me_.”

Harry snorted. “I kissed you, and you collapsed. Go on, Louis, tell me why you’re so turned on right now, you’re humping the fucking _bed_.”

Louis froze. He mumbled into the mattress, “You being embarrassed. You know that, Harry, god.”

“Yeah?” Harry, kneeling, tugged Louis’s hips up from the bed, pulled Louis’s arse flush against him. “What else?”

Louis squirmed, pushed back against Harry, got one hand on his own cock before Harry grabbed his hand and forced it back to the bed. Louis dug his forehead into mattress and thought. “You trying your hardest and getting it wrong." He wondered, through the fog that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his brain, if that was going to annoy Harry more than was smart, under the circumstances. But Harry had his hand back on Louis’s dick, fisting it lightly, and that wasn’t a very angry thing to be doing, was it?

“Is that all?” Harry asked, leaning forward. He was _heavy_. Louis felt Harry’s breath on his back and shivered.

“You were trying…” There were teeth on his spine. Louis gasped and stopped before taking up the thread again. “Trying to be the one handling it all, so fucking strong, don’t worry, Mrs. Grown-Up Pregnant Lady, just leave it all to young Harry, let him take care of you." He was thrusting helplessly into the curl of Harry’s fist, adding, “except you never. Had. A clue.”

Harry had his cock out now, dragging it lazily along the seam of Louis’s arse before fitting it between Louis’s thighs. “You could fuck me,” mumbled Louis into the mattress, before he could think better of it. It was something that didn’t usually happen.

“I don’t believe you,” said Harry, but Louis could feel the wetness leaking from Harry’s cock onto his thigh.

“I meant it,” said Louis. “There’s lube in the—"

“I _mean_ ,” said Harry, sticking his fingers in Louis’s mouth, “I don’t think I’m hearing the whole story. Unless you’re going to let me fuck you despite all your insecure whatever just because you feel so sorry for clueless Hazza—" He stroked Louis’s lips with fingers wet with Louis’s spit and then took them away “—because you have all the clues, Louis, and maybe just once you’re willing to share—" His hands were on Louis’s arse again, spreading him. Louis braced for the burn. “But is that really it?” asked Harry, doing nothing, _absolutely fucking nothing_.

“No,” admitted Louis, and groaned as he felt a finger press in at last. “Fuck, Hazza.”

“So tell me,” said Harry, and for the first time his voice was fraying at the edges. “Fucking tell me, Lou." But he was twisting his finger a little inside Louis, letting Louis push back to take it further and then forward into Harry’s fist, so Louis couldn’t see how to say anything at all. Unfortunately this was one more problem Harry seemed to know how to solve: he took his hand away from Louis’s cock and held him still with a hand on his hip. “I’m waiting,” he said.

Louis moaned in frustration and muttered, “Not. What I said before—kind of the opposite. Like—not clueless. Not _just_ clueless." Harry withdrew his finger and Louis realized he’d said the wrong thing, stupid stupid stupid, but then Harry was shoving two wet fingers inside him, opening him, and he felt reckless, ready to be stupider still, “It felt—something. Weird. To watch you try to take care of her. Be in control. Even if it was nonsense. I just. It’s how I always—" Harry was pushing his fingers into Louis harder now, deeper, and Louis cried out.

“How you always…?” prompted Harry, voice rough.

“How I want you to take care of me,” blurted Louis, and promptly buried his head in his arms, pulling forward, away from him.

“God, Lou,” Harry choked out. Louis thought he was maybe incredibly freaked out, except he didn’t _sound_ freaked out, exactly. Louis reached back with one hand and now at last Harry let him touch, let Louis feel how hard he was. Louis stroked him clumsily, angle all wrong, not turning to meet his eyes.

“Please, Haz,” he said. But Harry just tipped him over sideways, leaning over him, and Louis wasn’t quick enough to fling an arm across his face and hide what was there. He looked up at Harry and saw his eyes dark and his hair ridiculous. “So I’m an idiot,” said Louis, “and I want you, and I told you everything, so why—”

“Louis,” said Harry, “Lou,” and ducked his head to kiss him, pushing his whole body against him, his cock slipping against Louis’s, the two of them grinding together. It felt perfect, so perfect, Harry’s eager body and the heat of his skin, but then Louis remembered he was supposed to get fucked, and Harry seemed to have forgotten to be in charge. Hazily, Louis reached down between them for repositioning, then got sidetracked by the feeling of Harry’s cock heavy in his hand. Harry bucked against him, moaned, pulled Louis over on top of him.

“I _will_ ,” he said, mumbling into Louis’s neck, jerking up into the hollow of Louis’s hip, desperate. Louis squirmed, lifted his hips, got Harry’s cock up between his legs and rubbing along the crack of his arse, reached back behind him to keep it there, but it was hopeless to try to get him inside. Harry was barely coherent, right on the edge. “What you said, Lou. I want that.” Mouthing blindly at Harry’s shoulder, tightening his fingers on Harry’s cock, Louis tried to listen, make sense of his words. “Take care of you,” Harry said, and came.

Louis rolled to the side when Harry’s body went still. He steeled himself to wait until Harry’s eyes were open again, and then he reached down to finish himself off. But Harry was apparently less destroyed than he seemed. He was a little unsteady, maybe, as he turned over to take Louis’s cock in his mouth, but there was no teasing this time, no pausing, just sucking him down. Louis could have cried from relief at the familiar drag of Harry’s generous mouth. It took very little time. He was touching Harry’s face when he came.

Harry swallowed and collapsed back on his side. They lay on the bed, Harry’s head against Louis’s hip, Louis’s hand in Harry’s hair.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to fuck me after all,” said Louis.

Harry shrugged. “Used to it,” he said.

Louis scrambled up to a sitting position and looked down at Harry. “No, I really wanted to,” he said. “I meant it. One of these days.”

“Okay,” said Harry cheerfully. “S’not like I hate it when you do me.”

“Speaking of which,” said Louis, “told you you wanted to blow me, didn’t I?”

Harry banged his forehead against Louis’s side. “Speaking of people who were right all along,” he said, “I could mention a word or two.”

“We don’t actually have to discuss it,” said Louis hastily. “Talking about feelings is so overrated."

“Right,” said Harry. “So I won’t discuss it with you first, I’ll just sort of casually mention to Zayn how you get a boner when you see me playing hero, and—” but he wasn’t able to go on with his plan because Louis was sitting on him.

“Oi!” said Harry. He tried to push Louis off, but not very hard.

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” said Louis. “You taunt me, and, and, _caveman_ me, until I tell you my deepest darkest secrets and then you want to run off and tell our friends.”

“It’s almost as if embarrassing you actually turned me on." Harry paused and shook his head. “Nah, no one could really be like that. Not possible.”

“ _You’re_ not possible,” said Louis fondly. He traced a finger down Harry’s chest, zigzagging nipple to nipple. “Don’t ever change, okay?”

“I couldn’t,” said Harry. “I promise.”


End file.
